Penalty Takers

As reported towards the conclusion of yesterday's post, at some point that evening while I was watching a show here on my bedside computer, my wife finally came home after returning a day or two earlier from her five or so weeks visiting her mother and other family back in Thailand; she is from a large village near Udon Thani City.

It is rather sad to say that there was not much engagement between us. She was busily engaged watching videos or something on her smartphone, so my conversation with her was limited. I suppose I was also a little removed for concern that she might already be wanting financial help from me that I cannot afford.

I think that I made it to bed just ahead of 10 p.m. without any alert to my wife, who had apparently earlier thought I had already gone to bed. I only realized she was here because I heard my younger brother addressing her in his considerable surprise at seeing her in the house.

My cellphone alarm was set for 3 a.m., and apart from some sets of pull-ups and chin-ups at the fairly nearby elementary school playground, I intended to hike the mile or so to my financial institution to use its outdoor ATM to make a $200 withdrawal.

I expected that I might be rather tired when my alarm sounded, for I had hoped to get to bed before it was even 9:30 p.m.

Well, I was definitely on the tired side at 3 a.m., but not because that was when I rose. A point had arrived when I was awake and used the toilet, then after getting back to my bedroom I checked the time and found it to be 1:46 a.m.

I returned to bed and sought to relax into sleep, but after 20 minutes or so realized that I was only wasting time. With my bad right knee, it was better to have the extra time for that laborious walk to and back from the ATM. The school is along the way ─ not quite halfway.

When I finally got on my way, I found it mild outside. And instead of a jacket, I wore a denim vest with a long-sleeved almost silky shirt beneath, and with a tee-shirt under the shirt. I was never to be even slightly feeling cool.

I always cut through the school property anytime I go to the ATM. But this time I was to find the entirety of the back property to be blocked with a new temporary wire fence that had been so secured in its sections that it could neither be pushed over nor any of its sections separated to allow passage.

Apart from inconveniencing trespassers like me, there are two pathways at each far corner of the fence that children from neighbourhoods beyond use to gain access to the school, but both of these were now blocked completely off. Children were going to be forced to make a most inconvenient detour that would in some cases add a fair distance to their route.

I had traced the fence from the pathway that I had sought to take, carefully following along in the dark to the other pathway, hoping that maybe that way would be open for student access. But as already said, it was not.

So I had to return to the back of the school to take the the street out front, realizing that my original plan to exercise when I was returning home from the ATM errand was no longer the best option in view of how troublesome it is for me to walk now. On my way back, I did not want to have to leave the street and pass all the way along to almost the rear of the school where the playground is. I had already lost a huge amount of time because the fence was stretched along an irregular grassy slope that required me to be most careful in treading due to my precarious bearing now that my bad knee has me so unstable.

And so I chose to exercise then in order to avoid having to seek out the playground later. I still have to use the youngest kids' playground because that of the older kids has not been replaced after its eradication at the start of July.

I had weighed myself before leaving home. Dressed exactly as I would be while exercising, I seemed to be nothing less than 183 pounds. This was a pound heavier than two nights ago, and two pounds heavier that four nights ago, my most recent previous visits to the playground for night exercising. Yet I had eaten so damned little yesterday ─ it made no sense to me!

At least the equipment was perfectly dry of any condensation. Nonetheless, it does not seem that I am any longer able to attain seven pull-ups in an opening set, but I matched my last visit: first two sets of pull-ups (six and two pull-ups); two sets of chin ups (three in each set); two sets of pull-ups between a pair of half-rings (two in each set); and a final set of a single pull-up to make up for the failure to open with seven reps.

There is always a 30-count between sets; and I had one last 30-count before performing a dead hang in which I yet again managed a 100-count (I first did so on Monday, and then again on Wednesday).

I then walked to the opposite side of the school where the older kids' playground was, and there I put in 10 slow full-rage decline push-ups on a cement ramp that exists in lieu of stairs to a side door at the school.

As for my walk to and back from the ATM, there were only a couple of incidents in the vicinity of the ATM itself.

On my way to it as I walked the main highway, I could hear some guy practically screaming "ℱ𝓊𝒸𝓀!" over and over again, but in looking back behind me I could not see the culprit. I was getting very near to the ATM when this prick was now in view and going to overtake me before I quite made it to the ATM, so I detoured a little to get off the main way and into some shadows.

He was still swearing that word over and over as he rapid-walked.

After he passed by, I again approached the ATM only to have him hove back into view because he was in an exchange with some guy on an electric bicycle who had been coming in my direction, with the first clown in accompaniment until the bike-rider said something about 20 minutes and then swooped away.

I feigned like I was working my way towards this guy and passing by the ATM. Initially he looked like he might engage me, but perhaps my rather husky and fit aspect, and my five-foot walking stick, persuaded him to continue on his journey.

And so I made my withdrawal. And then a very short distance away, some other clown was coming up the highway from where the curser had originally come. I thought he was talking aloud on one of hose hands-free cellphone set-ups, but he was not ─ he was just mentally ill or high on something.

We each had come to an intersection with the red light against us, but this fellow walked right through it in my direction.

I still was not certain that he was not talking to someone on a cellphone, but when he got to my side of the intersection his ongoing babble and eye contact with me made it apparent that there was no other communicant he was dialoguing with.

He was on the small side, and was of Indian (India) origin. He had lots of bushy dark hair and a dark beard. He seemed young.

When he got to where I was, he crouched down and talked on and on, looking up at me. He would speak in normal street English, and then suddenly revert to his native language while still speaking to me. It was as if he would lose track of which language he should be using.

He was getting quite emotional.

Of course I had trouble understanding what he was going on about, but I heard enough to figure out that he was overwrought about the damage done to him by his possibly homosexual and domineering father.

He praised his mother and had no blame for her about the tumult her son was in due to his upbringing with the father he had. I think he declared that he was not going to be like his father ─ that there was no reason he should become anything like him. He mentioned that his father used to tongue-kiss him, so I don't know what else went on.

At one point I asked if his "dad" (as he referred to his father) was still alive, but the young fellow claimed not to know (incidentally, he told me that he was 24 years old).

By this time he was standing by me, and did seem rather too near for comfort. Sure, I was larger than him; but in light of how strangers can suddenly produce a knife and make a deadly attack, I was somewhat leery.

I kept my walking stick planted on the pavement as a bit of a buffer between us as he talked. He so often launched into his native Indian tongue for quite a few sentences that it was bizarre, for he kept looking open-eyed at me as if he was baring his soul to someone who was actually listening to him. I noticed that he was getting teary-eyed.

Meantime the traffic light changed a number of times.

I kept waiting for this fellow to finally ask me for a handout, but he never did ─ not unless he did so during one of his Indian speeches.

How long is this going to continue, I wondered? I want to be on my way.

Once another pedestrian came and went. Then someone else came along ─ a probable street person, but a rather dumpy woman.

He turned and faced her for several seconds as she crossed the highway to where we stood, and then he got back into his weird narration.

The woman had gone on in the direction of that first idiot doing all the swearing, who seemed long gone. Then suddenly, my chap stopped talking and turned, facing up the street to where the woman had gone. Suddenly he started walking rapidly in that direction, calling out, "Wait! Christina!" 

And off he went at a bit of a run in her direction.

That was my cue to get the Hell away from there. The light had changed in my favour, so I hurried off across the main highway and was soon out of sight to anyone on the side I had forsaken.

I visit this ATM when I do because I cannot bear to be public in the daytime walking like the bloody gimp I have become, but I sure don't need these lunatic encounters.

Back home again, I think that I was back to bed a little before 6 a.m., wondering if I was going to sleep into or past the mid-morning. As it was to turn out, when I believed my younger brother to be downstairs watching T.V., I got myself out of bed after maybe 10 minutes of sheer relishing of the bed's comfort.

It was just barely past 8 a.m.

Even so, I remained here at my bedside computer until after 9 a.m. before joining my brother for some T.V. And when he invited me to put our Android TV Box to work, I led us off with a 17-minute (17:04) video uploaded yesterday to YouTube's AnitaK channel: Who really shot Charlie Kirk and where is the media leading us?

Incidentally, my brother never heard of Charlie Kirk before, and I cannot say that I was previously familiar with him either.

I then gave my brother the option of sitting through a video about another Charlie, but I didn't hint that it would be very long.

It was well over 2¾ hours, and had been published yesterday to Rumble's The Joe Rogan Experience Podcast: Joe Rogan Experience #2378 - Charlie Sheen.

After about a quarter hour, my brother felt he'd watched enough ─ I tuned out barely past the 16-minute mark. We were learning nothing about Charlie Sheen.

So I tuned in a nearly 1¼-hour (1:14:11) video published earlier today to Rumble's USAFrontlineDoctors channel: Here's What We Know About the Assassination of Charlie Kirk.

I was to skip less than the final four minutes because I wanted to watch something I had previously recorded onto a flash or thumb drive, and the morning was far advancing.

My main concern was to get started on a movie, but only one of the five or more media players downloaded into our Android TV Box can read the flash drive, and that player is India's MX Player. But many movies do not seem to have much volume ─ I have cranked the volume up to its maximum 100 setting and the sound was still too faint for us to enjoy the movie.

I have tried a couple of audio boosters, and one was very good initially. But I can find no way to keep the setting to maximum, and it has continually dropped lower and lower without me being able to discern how the blazes to get it jacked back up.

So this morning I got too pissed off and just deleted it.

Tomorrow in the early a.m. when I have access to the T.V. (Bev watches the damned thing from the time she gets up midday until she goes to bed at night), I will see what I can find that works ─ if such is possible.

After my brother returned to his bedroom for further bed rest, I was likely back into my own bed ahead of noon. I was up again around 1:30 p.m., unsure if my wife was even home because I had not yet seen her since last evening.

Well past 2 p.m. she finally did emerge from her bedroom. Around 2:45 p.m. she asked me to monitor the kettle and turn the heat down once the water had boiled, for she was going to have a shower.

I did as requested, and then decided to sit outside on the backyard lawn in some sunshine ─ as usual, the morning had been darkly overcast.

Initially it was quite sunny indeed when I commenced my session at 2:55 p.m., but something under 25 minutes later so much light cloud had obscured the Sun for as much of the sky as I could see that I no longer could distinguish shadow on the lawn and thus was unable to tell where the shade of the house was encroaching my sunny spot.

I surrendered and came into the house. I had only been sunning my forearms and head ─ I hadn't even donned shorts.

Anyway, my wife was gone. I suspect that maybe she had to report in to work the latter part of the day at the Thai restaurant where she is employed part-time, but I didn't know of it, if so.

At least I was able to have some light exercise in her vacant bedroom.

I do not plan to rise too very early tomorrow ─ I may set my cellphone alarm for 5 a.m. But right now at 7:03 p.m. I am going to break from this post to watch a couple of shows here on my bedside computer while having a couple of cans of Cariboo Malt (7.9% alcohol).

🟧🟧🟧

My first selection was Blood Ties ─ episode nine ("Stone Cold") of the first season. It was okay enough; and my source was this GOOJARA.to link. The series ─ or at least the first season ─ seems to be available at YouTube, and I actually tried this episode there. But the video quality was very poor and the volume not much clearer; and then into the 26-minute mark the volume died and the episode kept rolling, so that was when I bailed.

I suppose the episode ended around 8:10 p.m., and Bev was still below watching T.V. by herself ─ my brother had yet to return from where he had bused to do his social drinking.

My second show was Heimebane, which apparently translates from Norwegian as Home Ground. This round it was episode eight ("Straffeskyttarane") of the first season. That title apparently translates into English as "The Penalty Takers".

I decided not to watch it at the same website as the other eight episodes, for I get as many as three or more advertisement websites forced onto me before I finally have the player enlarged and playing the show.

So I gave this MoviesV2.cc link a shot, and it played without any unwanted new browsers appearing for shady websites.

I am deeply enjoying this series, and the characters and actors involved.

I suppose the episode ended around 9:30 p.m., by which time a check revealed my brother to be downstairs with Bev, although I could not discern if he was conscious.

Two beers seemed to be sufficient for me.

Desiring to get the 15-minute or so chore of brushing my teeth out of the way, I got busy with that. At the very tail end around 10 p.m., my wife got home. 

At present it is 10:37 p.m., so I am just going to close and publish this post, and gradually wend my way towards ending my evening.